Little Brother
by DianaM -again
Summary: He's being court-martialed in the morning...


He's being court-martialed in the morning.

It pisses me off. I can't help it. He's my brother. He's my _little _brother. How could I not help him when asked? Wouldn't you, if you were asked? By your mother, who is in tears on the phone. I could tell. She tried to hide it, but I swear, once that little hitch in her breath dripped past the receiver, I knew. I could see her standing there, crying in the kitchen.

That really did it, the tears. I can't stand it when Mama cries. My mother. Am I too old for "Mama"? Nah, screw that. I can't stand for Mama to cry, and I make her cry enough every time I leave home.

She cried when Papa died. For days. Weeks. Months. A year of tears. They think I don't remember it. Don't know why. I remember every minute of the whole thing. He died saving me, you know. Little me. That me back _there. _I remember it all. Wakes me up at night. It was lousy.

She cried when I left for college, long as that lasted. Too old to go back now. Bet she cried about that, too.

She cried when I left for basic, and then she bawled when I left for 'Nam. Come to think of it, she cried harder when I came home. Big, huge tears. Relief? I don't know. There I days from then that I _don't _ remember, or don't want to. I've shoved them way down somewhere. But I remember her crying.

She cried when I left for each Special Forces school. Not that I was going anywhere dangerous. She cried because she wanted me back on the farm, training horses over soldiers. Honestly, by then, I didn't know how to be anyone else. Too late, you know? Too many years in the army to start over. Too many kills. I killed people. Lots of people. I still kill people, and if it gets too quiet, I start thinking about that too hard. Faces. Faces sort of come up out of the back of my head. I start counting. Pop's back there, too. Back in my head.

She cried when I left for Joe the first time. She's cried every time I quit leave and come back here. Every time. Every _damn _time. Trust me, there aren't many leaves. I don't get much downtime, let alone a week or two off. I like leave time. I like going home, really, I do. But, you know, when it gets quiet...

So, when I pack up to come back to base, when she takes me to the airport, she cries. The whole way. My mother. Cries.

I make my mother cry a lot, really. I don't try, mind you. But it is what it is. I do what I do-I'm _good _at it, and it kills her to know I'm going off, that one day I might just leave and, and...and...never come back. Believe it or not, she's a strong woman. But, well, I make her cry. So, I guess, does my brother.

I'm OK with that. The never coming back. I think. Yup. It's all good-at least, well, no. You would be alone. Not my mother. She would be alone, too-no she wouldn't there's all the rest of the family. Jack. My sisters. I mean _you _would be alone, and I don't think I can really...I don't want to think about it right now.

My little brother. My little brother. He's a headache. That's how I heard him described last year. Look, I wasn't checking up on him. I wasn't. Not really. Well, yeah, OK, I was. Don't tell him though. I sort of have been keeping tabs on him for years. Heck, I called his Biology teacher once. I kid you not. I did. Just wanted to see how he was doing, 'cause that one time I came home and he was struggling in science. When was that? Post M.A.S.S.? Yeah. After the weather dominator thing. Around the time of that damn pyramid. Maybe a little later. God, is that how I mark time?

A headache? My little brother? The one who kept falling into the coffee table when he was learning to walk? I taped every pillow from the bunkhouse over all the living room furniture. Caught Hell for that. Packing tape, it turns out, is bad for the finish on your Mama's coffee table. I was only a kid myself, right? Like I was thinking about packing tape or finishes. The important part was he stopped putting dents in his head.

A headache? My little brother. The one who used to sing Jingle Bells at the top of his lungs in those footy pajamas every Christmas? The one who got into it with little Delph Koch? Over something stupid, I don't even know. That one ended up with Delph's brother Max and me. Well, I ended it. Huh. Forgot about that. Max went down in three quick taps.

A headache? That kid who built the skystriker model for my birthday a few years back? God knows, they make skystriker models. Maulers. Havoks. Conquests now. Go to the hobby store in town if you don't believe me. I didn't know at the time. Opened the box and there it was. He'd packed it with so much bubble wrap and tissue. Those little foam thingies. Huge box, remember? I never showed you what was inside. I never really get packages from anywhere but home-never big ones like that. It was all padding. Opened it up, dug inside, and there's this perfect little skystriker. For me. He'd made it for me.

It's got all the parts. All to scale. He painted it and got all the decals on. I swear, he did the instrument panel perfect. Somehow, he got my helmet inside the cockpit. Little green helmet, just like my old one. Sits on my desk. He must have spent days. And he sent it to me. For my birthday. You don't know how much that tickles me. It's here on my desk if you want to see it. It's pretty amazing, the kid could do that. Look at this thing, check it out. He made it for me.

Most people don't even know when my birthday is. Really, I don't tell people. I don't need to celebrate with everyone. I'd rather just do things on my own. Well almost alone. I could spend my birthday with just one person and be completely happy with it. Yeah, it's you, what can I say, you're all I need. Heh. Not just the day. _Those _are some good nights. Hmm.

That year, I got a big package. From him. Headache? My little brother?

The time they kidnapped everyone's families? Remember that? Of course you do. I know that. I do. I mean, it was sort of interesting, seeing all those families. Who looked like whom. Geez, three brothers, all of them trained like you. Almost like you. You're tougher, honestly, than all three I can take the boys, I got 20-30 pounds on them, but you can get one over on me if I'm too slow, you know it. When they did that, when they kidnapped all those sisters and brothers and cousins and parents-I was pretty sure they'd get mine. Or worried about it. My family. It scared me shitless to think of all five of them in that mess. I was lucky. But then everyone would have met him. My little brother. Yeah, OK, half-brother, but that's splitting hairs, right? He's my little brother, dammit.

It's a mix, my family.

It's a mix because Papa died and my mother eventually moved on. She took me with her, of course. Hello. New father. OK, it wasn't instant. It took a few years. Not that I had much say. He's a good guy. How many guys would spend so much time chasing a woman with a kid in tow? Not many I know. Plus, I think back then, you could describe me as a "handful". Fights and that. I like fighting. Got into lots of them. I still do. Like fighting. No, I mean it, I do, it's a rush. Gets a lot of the anger out, you know? From my head. It builds up there.

Now and again, I gotta let the pressure out. Been that way as long as I can remember. I guess I was trouble as a kid, with all the fighting. He taught me a lot. Jack. My stepfather. Green Beret. Career man. Retired now. Put boxing gloves on me, for one. You learn to do it right, you sort of get under control. I like discipline. Keeps me mostly in line, yeah? He's not my father though. Not mine. Mine's dead. Back in my head, yeah.

Oh, yeah, I took on the bullies and that. But there were a few others, too. Just...Just jerks, really. You run across a bunch, growing up. Especially when you sort of stick out in the family portrait. I do. Bunch of short, dark people, and big ol' blonde me. My family is a mix. Not a "blend". There's no blending there. Them, then me. But it works. So, you know, I had to fight. Fight for myself, and fight for them. Fuckin' Max Koch. Try scaring my little brother again, jerk. More of them out there. Don't even think of looking funny at my sisters. One call and I'm back there, you watch. Down. They. Go.

My little brother. Used to dance around in those pajamas. They were blue. There was a bear on them. I guess he had more than one pair. I mean, I remember hims wearing them for years. Every Christmas he would wake up before dawn and sing at the top of his lungs till we all got up. Every year. For all I know, he still does. When was I last home at Christmas?

Asked me what sex was like. I mean, when he was older. Not in the pajamas, with the feet and that. You know, he really just wanted to know. Just came out and asked me on one of those rare leave times. "What's it like?" Kinda hard to answer, with a straight face, anyhow. "It's great." Heck yeah. Then you gotta go into all the serious "it's best with someone you love, be sure to use protection" speeches. That's not me. It was easier to say "it's damn fun". Looking back, maybe that wasn't the best of answers, but at least I was honest. I didn't really know what to say, to tell you the truth. Pretty sure he knows by now. Oh yeah, I bet. Good lord, he's a horndog now. Kinda funny. I think I was, too, at that age. Just a little smarter about it. Probably not something you want to know about, though. That's all the past. Not that _you _don't drive me crazy. You do. You don't even know. I just have a lot more control..and, wow, you keep me busy.

My little brother.

What happened to him? A headache?

When he was younger, maybe he got on my nerves a bit, but not really. Not like now. So Mama cried, and I listened. I pulled strings. I had a lot to pull, really. People owe me favors. The strings I can pull...

It took all of them. ALL. Every string I had, I pulled. Because he's my _brother._ Because my Mama cried. And I'm so _tired _of making Mama cry. Our last names are different. Yeah. I could keep it looking innocent. Sort of secret. Almost. I didn't know how long. Discreet. For a little bit, anyhow. I'm use to the discretion thing. I pulled strings for him.

Some of those strings I won't be able to pull again. Thank you, Colonel Sharpe.

I read his file so many times, I think I've memorized it. I expected some trouble, but it was pretty bad in spots. Nothing stands out as good. Why? Headache? How? How in God's name did that amazing little kid turn into this...this mess? This headache?

It was pretty hard to substantiate. How this kid, this headache, could end up on my base. Why I would _want _someone with such a record within a hundred miles of my base. My base. My little brother. They should never have gone together. My fault. Good thing Hawk had his mind elsewhere. BET. Isn't that a cable network? These scientists. Why did we have to go all the way to buttfuck Nepal to test it? I never got it. Heck, I follow orders. Most of them. Kept Hawk's mind on big expensive machines and off my new recruits. He never even glanced at the files. He trusted me.

Oh God. I don't want to think about that. You all trust me, and what did I do? Brought a headache onto base. My little brother, the headache. The horndog. The little kid. Right onto my base. People are hurt because of him.

I thought I could watch him. I did. Not sure how-like I have a minute for my own life, let alone his. Look what happened. Turn my back for one minute and he's abandoning his post twice to screw around with two different women.

Unlike his big brother, who manages to stay on post and still sneak off with one. Precious down time, spend it all on you, you know. Gonna be a while now, I bet. Look at this mess.

Two women! And one of them a fellow soldier. Why'd I bring her on? She drove more than enough CO's crazy herself. Watched her spar, that one. Knew she was right for this place. All of that bunch fit in fine. Thought it was time for another woman that wasn't a regular.

I figure, my base is already full of some pretty whacked out guys. Two of them who followed us home, can we keep them? I get back on base after yet another trip to the arena of sport or some fucking space station to find some complete stranger in my muster. Who the Hell are you? Sailor? Stuntman? I fed them, and they stayed. Twice. It happened twice. A sailor from the desert and a barefoot shirtless stuntman from the arctic. Does that make sense to you? Do you know how hard that kind of thing _is_ to explain to the brass? Well, I do, now. It all worked out, I guess.

And a zoo. It's a fucking zoo, I swear. I should have stopped with the wolf, but I wanted Junkyard. He came with Mutt, and a trained MP with an army dog is as good as gold. Needed an MP. The wolf? Timber? Like I had a choice. Wolves add that extra touch of badass to any special occasion. An eagle, hey, OK. Technically, I think I'm breaking some sort of EPA law sending him on a mission. The parrot? You got me. The man didn't _come _with the parrot, if you remember, she just showed up on his shoulder one day. Pop, parrot. I thought it was a joke. She never shuts up. And you gotta be really careful what you do. Check if she's around. She learns words fast, and she pretty much blabs anything she hears for days after. _That _nearly got us both in a bind. Please stop offering to bird sit. Not again. Not overnight.

And now we have another dog. A zoo.

Somehow, over the last few years, things have definitely gotten weird. If you'd asked me back at my last assignment if I'd spend the best years of my career running an outfit that looks more like the Muppet Show than anything else I can think of, I'd have thought you crazy. Here I am. Why not? So why not my brother? Why not all of that crew. What's six more in this group of misfits? They're young. They're good. They'll rise to the occasion, I can tell. Besides, when those six are all lined up, he doesn't stand out so much, my little brother. So I thought. I guess I kinda hoped that just being here with me, he woulda gotten it finally.

My little brother. What did he _do? _He didn't get it. Not even for me.

Like I asked. I dunno, I just...When I saw them. When I saw him. It felt weird. The little brat just glared at me. Don't know what I expected. He was headed for a mess out there and I get him the one ride most guys are begging for. When we need recruits, I don't have to beg. I gotta shovel the piles off my desk. And I gave him the spot. So I go down to introduce myself and get them on track. Up to my snuff. Five enthralled faces and one pissed off jerk of a little brother. Shit, he wanted a piece of me then. Huhn. Not that he'd ever get far. He's still smaller. Still a kid. Could probably just sit on him till he taps out. I can take him still. Like your brothers. I can take all brothers. Mine, yours, whatever. Don't laugh. Fine, it's funny. But I can, you know.

Why? I don't know why he was angry at me. I don't honestly care. Or, I didn't. Figured he was better off in Beach Head's hands. I got no time for training, nowadays. Not my job anymore, you know. I just nodded a few times and pretty much had to go right away and pack for Nepal. Not much of a hello from big brother.

Things were, well, rough, I guess. Sneeden's no babysitter. Not supposed to be. If you can't handle him, how far you gonna get when the shit goes down for real? Seems he managed to find enough distraction with Jinx. Then the other one. Then Jinx again. Again. A woman from his own unit. Is he my little brother or what?

Deep inside, down in there, that amazing little kid is there. I know it. I do. He's got it in him. No one believes me, I know. It's there. Go deep in him, and you'll find it. Go deep in me, well, lets not OK? Keeps me up at night, when it gets quiet. No one will believe me, but he's not as screwed up as he lets on. He hasn't seen what I've seen.

My little brother.

Mama, what on Earth did you get me _into?_

Come back from the Himalayas, enemy leader in tow, enjoy one night-_ one _night, mind you-of down time with my woman and that's it. Well, you are, that's how I like to think of it. Call me a caveman, go ahead. Kill for you. I have, you know. Because I kill people. You go ahead and call me your man, I'm all for that. One hundred percent.

Now I got brother problems. I honestly thought he would sit and think about it all night long, on guard duty. I hoped he would just think things through. Oh no, not him. Off he goes, lead by his dick, and now I got three guys in the infirmary and a missing Emperor.

He lost my father's watch, a while back. Took it for a date something and managed to lose it. Or someone stole it. Gone. Just like that. Papa's gold watch. I only found out about it way after the fact, 'cause, you know where I was...right here. Or off in some corner of the world. Came home on leave, opened my drawer for a gander at it and found it gone. I ain't getting it back. I dangled his little butt over the quarry till he let on what happened to it. Then I dropped him. Don't look at me that way; it's full of water. Wet was the worst he got. And, you know, he lost my father's watch. I don't have much left of Papa. A few things, some pictures and the nightmare back in my head.

So, yeah, he's lost things of mine before. Never prisoners. Frankly, I'd rather have the prisoner back over the watch. Well, I'd want both if I had a chance.

This sounds stupid. Am I babbling? I am, huh? I'm probably not making much sense. Usually I'm not one for talking. Not into small talk. Maybe with you. I guess. It's a mess, huh?

My little brother. I never wanted him to do this, you know.

He's being court-martialed in the morning. Well, a preliminary hearing, really. Hawk. Slip Stream. Bill. Lattimer.

What can I do? I gotta fix it. I can usually fix it. I'm expected to fix it. He's my little brother.

Court-martialed...my brother.

Tell me, Red. What do I do?


End file.
